


Peaceful moments

by fish_wifey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hanging Out, Kissing, M/M, Playful Sex, Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just everyday things in the (love) life of these two gorgeous men. Added the whole team and I tried giving all them lovely boys their place.</p><p>I hope you all know that, alike the team, I don't hate Oikawa. Teasing him is too much fun however, so he has to endure òvo</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peaceful moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ushijima ebooks (bokutowl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutowl/gifts).



> Events are set after the Summer inter-high .v.b I can’t remember if this was featured at the end of the anime or if it happens right after, just so you know! For manga, it’s ch. 71 (But I guess if you're into matsuhana, you'd be well-versed with the happenings of the manga up to their latest match, right?)
> 
> yASSSS dear recipient, I keep them coming *v* I've been into matsuhana /i think/ after seeing the requests in this exchange and thinking 'aye why not', then went into pixiv for an 1+ hour, and I've been done for ever since. ALSO www, for the longest time, I thought the prompt was ‘snarky gays teasing Oikawa’, so that’s what I ended up doing. whoops! I can’t do ‘everyone knows’ stuff, so instead I gave you Kunimi to wonder a bit.
> 
> ((edit: fic was previously named 'Valued peace', but it sounded so bad to me.))

The quietness of the shack knows only few and small interruptions, while the breeze that comes from the open window fills the space. Kissing with languid motions, having all the time in the world as the clock ticks off their lunch break, Takahiro’s teeth nibble on Issei’s bottom lip, and he enjoys the taste of summer fruits Issei had consumed on their way here. Hands drift on his back, aimless on the spine, resting on the lower back or the shoulder in turns. Sitting beneath him, Issei keeps him steady, his long legs stretching out in front of him, while their school uniforms brush together. The wrinkling of fabric loud in their ears, while no sound from the faraway school grounds come anywhere near them. 

After Kyoutani’s smoking accident, Iwaizumi had given Issei the keys to this unused shack. The school board doesn’t yet know what to do with it, and in a hurry to decide, gave it their captain. Much to the pleasure of Takahiro, Issei had found proper use for it, and they would come here before school or after, hanging out when they wanted to be undisturbed. They still have a good twenty minutes left to enjoy each other, but Takahiro’s hands press into the firm chest, halting Issei. 

“Changed your mind?” Takahiro asks, while Issei’s hands drop on top of his plaid trousers. 

“Show it to me again.” Issei requests, at least more open to the idea than before Takahiro started kissing him. Takahiro’s arm stretches to the window seal, where he’d put a piece of paper below a stone. He spreads the piece of paper in front of Issei’s face, who looks at Takahiro’s tattoo design. Before, Issei had turned the idea down right away, and Takahiro had told him to hear him out, then used his favourite persuasion technique to change his mind. On the piece of paper was a chrysanthemum flower, which Takahiro liked the moment he’d lay eyes on the print. He’d seen it hanging off a wall in the Tokyo National Museum, which they had visited on their last trip to Tokyo. Consulting the internet, Takahiro had liked the term ‘cheerfulness and rest’ connected to the flower. 

“Apart of it being a flower and way too predictable… why pink?” Issei disregards the image Takahiro holds up in front of his nose, eyes flicking. Shrugging, Takahiro puts the design flat on their laps, eyes fixed on the printed image. When Takahiro doesn’t answer, Issei continues the colour question. “The red ones mean ‘love’, right? And the rest is just generally cheery.”

“I don’t know, pink could be for gay?” Hearing Issei’s words didn’t dissuade him from the idea of having it inked on his upper arm. Still, he hoped for encouraging words instead of a debate. 

“It would be cooler if it was grungy, like rotten petals.” Issei’s comment made Takahiro scrunch the paper (he had one at home, hidden from his parents in a notebook), and smash it against Issei’s head. Receiving the attack heads on with a closed eye and a grin, Issei sooths Takahiro’s spirits with a hand on his leg. 

“I still have years to change my mind. Could be that by the time I’m 20 I find something better… either another design or a new boyfriend.” Takahiro mutters, gazing away as he speaks. Sitting up, Issei laughs as he kisses Takahiro’s neck, hands now on the sides for more soothing. 

“Don’t be mad. I’m just not sure Hokusai suits you best.” Doing his best, Issei’s teeth bite on a small portion of Takahiro’s neck, then licks it with a flat tongue and a humming noise. This makes Takahiro laugh through a silent moan, not stopping when Issei only sucks up a small amount of his skin between his lips. Letting him do as he pleases, Takahiro’s hands slide over the broad shoulders, so he can slide forward, and give Issei easier access. For a moment, Issei abandons his task of physical soothing for the verbal kind. “Maybe it’ll just have to grow on me, or think of something to match yours.”

“And since when do you want to get a tattoo?” The thought to get it himself had been on Takahiro’s mind since he was 14, not giving a shit about any social backlash. Issei doesn’t answer right away, which makes Takahiro tilt his head to look at him. In turn, Takahiro sees him look up to him from beneath lashes. Issei shies away when he hides his face against Takahiro’s skin, nose brushing upwards when he inhales Takahiro’s scent.

“I think about seven minutes ago.” Issei mouths the hard jawline, waiting for the facial structure to change into a smile before he proceeds. “If you’re so into tattoos, I should consider applying it too. Maybe you’ll fall even more in love with me.” 

Takahiro hits his head, playful enough and with less vigour than his previous paper attack. He doesn’t lean away from the soft touches on his face, as they move on to his ear. The side of Takahiro’s face brushes against Issei’s unruly mop of hair, warning him not to leave a mark. Issei kisses him behind the ear, hand on Takahiro’s other, thumb stroking the earlobe. The attention given makes Takahiro shift on Issei’s lap, eyes skipping to the clock on the wall and the bags on the ground. They would need to eat before the break ends. Single-track mind in action, Takahiro leans out of Issei’s reach to grab the bag of the complaining man at his arm, while being made sure off he won’t fall as he retrieves it. 

“Mediocre grades but at least you’re good at home economics, mhn?” Takahiro grins, taking the chopsticks and sampling some of the vegetables he knows Issei prepares himself. Eating some without the intention of sharing, Takahiro’s wrist is taken, and the chopsticks guided to Issei’s mouth. Happy, Takahiro hums at the taste and texture of the chicken he tries next, before it changes to melancholic smile. “I would have asked you for a chashu pork, if we would have been in Tokyo right now.”

Issei takes the chopsticks to himself, eating some rice. Behind a closed mouth, the tongue cleans out any grains stuck at his teeth, before his eyes look up to Takahiro. “And we aren’t.”

“Yeah.” Watching Issei eat, Takahiro waits before he sets the food aside on the window sill. He leans back into Issei’s embrace, kissing him with more intent. The action’s purpose isn’t lost on Issei, whose tongue rolls over Takahiro’s, not getting too involved with the kiss. Whenever both of them would be too much into it, clothes would part ways for skins too touch, and they simply don’t have the time for it. Issei lets his mouth be used by Takahiro, the latter’s teeth sinking into the bottom lip again and again. He only parts to suggest Issei an after-practice meeting.

“The top 8 will be decided tonight… How about you come over to my place and we don’t watch it together?” 

Issei’s eyes void of judgement as he reads between the lines. Takahiro doesn’t want to say ‘help me forget about it’, waiting for Issei to agree. And he agrees. 

“...Sure. After practice?” 

“Fine with me.” Takahiro gives him a little smile, before taking the bento back to their laps, stuffing his mouth with rice. They move on to Takahiro’s lunch, too. He feels watched by Issei while he eats. Quite sure that Issei can’t stop thinking about how they’ve spend hours in this shack after their Inter-high prelims defeat, finding comfort in each other, both the soft and the rough kind. Issei confirms Takahiro’s thoughts by kissing him, licking a grain of rice off the corner of Takahiro’s mouth.

*~*~*

The teasing is minimum, and yet Akira notices Matsukawa-senpai’s head tilt to avoid Hanamaki-senpai’s tickling attacks to his neck. Matsukawa doesn’t try so hard to slap Hanamaki’s hand away, his pleads of ‘stop it’, interrupted by low laughs from his throat. They are at ease, finishing warming up after the runs. Matsukawa carries a net of balls with him, while Hanamaki pulls the cart to put them in behind him. Their free hands have a back and forth of teasing and trying to stop the teasing from happening. 

“Senpai, incoming.” Throwing a volleyball from his hands to the pair, Akira cups his mouth with one hand, his voice carrying with the ball before it hits either of them. Without a sweat, Hanamaki stops what he’d been doing, positions himself to receive, and pops the ball behind him in the cart. As the magic is broken, the two senpai load the other balls in the cart too, giving it to Akira to place it at the other end of the court for serve practice. Matsukawa takes a ball before Akira turns, a smile still on his face as the senior rubs his tickled neck. 

“What up, Kunimi? You’re not ready to serve some balls into the net?” Kindaichi reaches him with a grin plastered on his face. Akira rams him with the cart, making him move out of the way with a pained expression. 

“Just wondering about our seniors. Say, don’t you think Matsukawa-senpai and Hanamaki-senpai are touchy-feely with each other?” Akira doesn’t stop or look to the pair anymore, hearing them pass balls behind him to loosen up their arms. They pass the sideline to the other side of the net, where first years under the lead of Watari, line up for training serves and receives. Kindaichi walks besides him, bowed low to rub his rammed legs.

“Huh… I never thought about it.” Standing behind the court lines, Kindaichi takes a ball, slamming it for testing to the floor. He watches their seniors, face blank. “They hang out a lot, same as us though?” 

“Yeah, I thought so too. But they act more familiar with each other then, well-” Akira stands behind the cart, handing balls with overhand passes to the line forming beside it. The first years are supposed serve first, so the other side can receive the ball and return it by spiking. The person who served, then has to receive the ball and pass it to Watari, who will catch them and put the balls in the currently empty cart besides Watari. Kindaichi interrupts Kunimi, as he notifies their two seniors at the net that they’re starting -since Watari is busy with the first years- who clear the net and take their positions, ready to receive. Behind them are more second and third years, but they chose to do two men on the court for now, to strengthen the individual. Akira waits until everyone is settled, then joins the seven-meter line besides Kindachi. He looks to the door where their captain and ace enter. They all greet them, and Kindaichi turns to look at Akira so he can continue what he was trying to say. Akira waves him off as they have to show some concentration.

Once his ball goes over the net, Akira jumps forward, closer to the source of his observations. Instead of passing the ball, Hanamaki had hit Matsukawa in the face with a direct hit. Not hurt, the two were locked together, Matsukawa’s arms around Hanamaki’s throat and one arm, while the other tried to kick himself free. It was a friendly struggle, and Matsukawa grinned too much to mean any harm.

“Matsun, Makki, you two know that girls won’t notice you if they see this caveman behaviour, don’t you?” Oikawa pipes in, and Akira watches the two of them stopping to wrestle, and his arms lower since no ball is coming his way. Hanamaki’s face blanks, pushing Matsukawa’s arm off himself, facing Oikawa.

“Maybe we act like this to get the attention of girls, but unlike you, we’re not so prone to boast about it.” 

“In any case, who even wants a squealing brigade of people near you at all times to annoy you. What kind of boost is that?” Matsukawa stands straight next to Hanamaki, both of them calling Oikawa out, while a string of girls make their giggling entrance at the exact moment. Hanamaki nods before their captain can say a word, looking at Matsukawa in agreement.

“That would be distracting.” They both continue to list the cons of having female fans, and the pros of being left alone as they are. Akira, still close to the three-meter line, hearing another set of voices reaching behind him. Iwaizumi and Kindaichi talk about a manga they both read, and to which Akira has no interest. He regards the squabbling trio in front again. While Kindaichi joins at his side, since the practice has an uncalled break, whispering that Iwaizumi invited him to his house on Sunday. Akira is happy for his friend to have at least someone to talk obscure shounen manga with.

Oikawa hasn’t been able to pinch in a word, and to his short-lived happiness, Iwaizumi joins to his side. It becomes clear that he’s only here to help Matsukawa and Hanamaki bring their captain down of his high horse. The girls on the second floor, silent and watchful, aren’t helping. 

“Lately, the whole third years floor talks about your recent break-up.” Matsukawa says, having Iwaizumi and Hanamaki nod as they too have heard it. 

“How’s that awesome, compared to have them talk about your setter abilities?” Hanamaki wonders, looking at the ceiling as if it has the answers. Akira sees Matsukawa’s elbow touch Hanamaki’s, both of them grinning as Iwaizumi starts to join in the teasing, which transforms to downright, trash-talking. 

“I’m so sick of hearing the girls gossiping that it is because of the break up that we lost at the Inter-high. What the hell!?” The sounds of Oikawa in pain fill the gymnasium, and Akira stops Kindaichi from interfering. He directs Kindaichi’s attention to Hanamaki and Matsukawa, both laughing, with hands cupped, and adding Iwaizumi’s usual used insults of ‘Trash-kawa and Ass-kawa’ to the scene. Matsukawa leans on Hanamaki with an arm put on the latter’s shoulder, leaning in close as they both laugh at Oikawa’s predicament. 

“See, I meant this. Matsukawa-san and Hanamaki-san are really friendly with each other. Opposed to Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa-san, who are always fighting. You’d think childhood friends would be friendlier to each other, right?” Akira looks from the pair standing off-side watching Oikawa try and dodge Iwaizumi’s kicks, who runs after him enraged. “One pair is peaceful and plays around, while this pair is in a constant state of war.” 

“Hmm, I never thought of it that way. Isn’t it because they’re childhood friends that they have this intimate, masochistic relationship with each other?” Kindaichi counters, watching Iwaizumi’s dropkick Oikawa to the floor. Both of them see Iwaizumi jumping on Oikawa, taking his training shirt, and shaking him through, yelling about gossip and talent and what’s more important. Akira looks back at the place where Matsukawa and Hanamaki stood, only to see an empty space, both gone. Watari isn’t doing anything either, except hitting balls to the first years to receive in an impromptu changed practice. Akira turns to Kindaichi, patting his shoulder as if he sends his friend off to a useless war.

“Ah, okay, I think you need to stop Iwaizumi-san.” Akira walks away, back turned on Kindaichi’s confounded reply. 

“What? Now you let me!?” 

*~*~*

Issei would like to think he lets Takahiro slam him against walls, but the truth is far from it. Around the same length and weight, Takahiro is strong enough to rough him up by his own strength. They’re in the side hallway leading to the other gymnasium, which holds basketball practice on other days. It’s safe here, and the only sounds reaching them is Iwaizumi yelling orders, their captain probably lying somewhere, injured. Issei regards Takahiro with an amused face, giving him all the attention he’s worth. Attention not met with the expected enthusiasm. 

“I’ve told you to stop touching my ass when others are around.” Takahiro groans, while Issei’s grin widens, switching them around, kissing Takahiro on the lips. 

“No one ever notices. That’s why it's so fun.” Issei kisses the neck again, harder than what he did during noontime. The slaps he gets on his head in the afternoon are harder as well, more intent of making him stop. Issei pets the skin with soft, unsucking lips instead.

“Don’t, it’ll leave marks.” 

“Winter comes soon, wear a scarf?” Issei can only laugh against the skin which is a few tones fairer than his own. 

“You’ve seen scarfs? They’re way too thick for this weather, blockhead.” The insult comes with a heavy groan, Issei’s leg pushes between Takahiro’s legs, having that sort of effect. He rubs Takahiro through the sweatpants he wears during practice and the runs, rolled up above his knees, folds on the braces. “And what about practice, huh? They’ll sure as hell will notice _that_.” 

Issei stops because Takahiro’s fierce glare edges on angry. Lips and leg both off his boyfriend, Issei backs away to smirk at him. “Tell Oikawa you’ve got a nice assertive girlfriend, who gets possessive. It’ll break his pride.” 

Takahiro shows more leniency seeing it from that perspective, but Issei’s hands stay on the wall, telling him they’ll continue this ‘later’. Unable to go for a last grope, Issei’s hands push down the back of Takahiro’s pants, fingers touching the firm, bare ass. He backs away, triumphant feeling in his veins, knowing quite well that Takahiro wouldn’t let himself be toyed like that. From behind, arms sling under Issei’s arms, and he lets the hand wander down the front of his training shorts. Aroused, Issei is bodychecked to the wall, face first, and Takahiro’s lips a whispering threat at his ticklish neck. 

“Stop it during practice, alright? Keep that energy for tonight.” Hands emerge from Issei’s pants, but Issei captures one of them before Takahiro can walk back to the gym, pulls. He bites Takahiro’s ear, licking the lobe, glad that he’s not stopped when he bites down on the soft flesh.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

*~*~*

Consistent training in the gym isn’t a possibility for Issei, and he trains the strength of his arms and upper torso through push ups and crunches at home or in a park. Some of it comes in handy when he holds the rope Takahiro attempts to climb, hauling him into the first floor where Issei’s room is located. One foot in the room, Takahiro balances himself without much grace, calling Issei’s instinct to shoulder at least one of Takahiro’s flailing hands, giving him safer passage. Seeing this as an invite, Takahiro smiles, letting his grinning lips meet Issei’s surprised lips. 

“Missed me?” Takahiro asks, dropping his bag on the floor next to Issei’s bed. 

“Yeah, forty minutes since the last time I saw you. I thought my life would end.” Issei remarks, tone flat. He snorts when Takahiro, seating his ass on the ground, swats at his shins. Holding his louder laugh in as Takahiro’s fingers tickle the back of his knees, which make Issei drop down to Takahiro’s level. A play fight wrestle ensues, silent except from the elbows brushing the floor. 

Issei lets his body hover and lean on Takahiro in turns, exchanging kisses while they try to dominate the each other. Continuing to attack Takahiro in revenge, Issei’s lips drop to the side of his neck, as compromised earlier that day. This time Takahiro lets him do whatever he wants, if only because it’s what he needs. They stop the wrestle; Takahiro relaxing to the caress, while Issei stops the teasing, his hands vanishing below Takahiro’s shorts. 

“I’ve put the bag at your bed for a reason, browface.” Although he says it, Takahiro does nothing to make Issei stop, who only takes a breath to say he can’t wait. “Impatient.” 

“You’re one to speak.” Issei muses, his hand sliding up Takahiro’s manhood. “You get hard this easy recently.”

Takahiro saves his breath for an insult, and instead uses it to command Issei to up the pace. Grabbing for the bag, Issei flings spare packs of lubrication and condoms under his cushion, putting the same things on Takahiro. Leaning on his arms, he looks at Takahiro, letting a moment of awe take him. For now he keeps his mouth shut as to the numerous love confessions building inside his gut and rising to his throat, eyes distracted by the rise and fall of their necessities lying on top of Takahiro’s stomach.

“You want me to do it?” Issei asks, voice small. Every now and then, he asks certain things, no matter how many times they’ve done it, unspoken agreement and single looks sufficient. Takahiro nods, and as Issei spreads a layer of lube on his fingers, he’s once again stumbling. “Uh, you want me to _do_ you, as well?”

Takahiro’s patience makes a sweet comeback, one hand sliding up Issei’s arm. “God yes.”

They remove the minimum needed amount of clothes to be able to move freely, ready a moment’s for Issei to dress and Takahiro to hide if any sound reaches the front of Issei’s door. Those thoughts aside, Issei enters Takahiro, letting the rush of emotion transform to a stronger sense of lust, ruling out any outside matters. He’s lost in the feeling, eyes shutting as he takes Takahiro apart thrust by thrust. There’s something magical about taking Takahiro on the floor, a feral effect, taking over his lover as well. Their half-naked state doesn’t last long, as Takahiro’s nails wish to scratch on any surface of Issei’s body he can reach, while their keep their noises at a minimum level. A second reason Issei becomes naked in the process is when Takahiro’s hands glide to his rear. He hopes his groans, directed at the floor, coming from the sensation of Takahiro playing with his asshole, don’t carry through. 

The fear of being caught urges Issei’s pace, as well as pumping his adrenaline. It doesn’t take long for his orgasm, and he goes down to bite Takahiro’s skin, to drown the noise he would make. His plan thwarted by feet at his stomach, pushing him out and away, falling on his back with a startled cry. 

Making further use of the surprise attack, Takahiro, all clothing removed from himself while Issei fell, crawls between Issei’s legs, taking him with his ease. Issei bites on skin, of his own hand, to mute the groan. Fucking him, not using slow-paced thrusts to adjust, Takahiro takes him hard from the start, making Issei’s mouth stay where it is, keeping the voice down to a low. He melts on his own floor when Takahiro lifts one of his legs, placing the foot somewhere between his elbow and shoulder, leaning over Issei to find that perfect angle. Taken by surprise in the literal sense, Issei’s orgasm hadn’t gone over the edge, but lingers. Now, wishing to complete the action, Issei rubs his own cock, only to be told off by Takahiro, who removes the hand by the wrist. 

“Takahiro, please-”

“Patience, love.” Takahiro’s smile isn’t mean, but knowing, and Issei doesn’t struggle against the hold because he trusts him. That trust is rewarded when Takahiro, withdraws showing visual difficulties of doing so, only to straddle Issei and finish him off riding him fast. Issei’s heart sways by the devotion of not finishing first when Takahiro had the chance, his hands finding their ways naturally to Takahiro’s arm to steady him, and to one butt-cheek to open him. Eyes fixate on Takahiro’s, whose sensitivity got the best of him, his eyes closed by the accumulation of warmth. It spreads on his temples and down his neck, on his arm and his stomach, while Issei feels the same sweat at their glued together legs. Their breathing becomes harsher and louder, all troubles vanish from Issei’s mind as he watches Takahiro lose himself on top of his cock, rolling his hips. Issei bites his bottom lip to silence the gasp. 

“Use your hands, Takahiro.” Issei watches him do so, hands slippy as they slide from his pecs up to the shoulders, the sex so rough the palms slide off Issei’s body completely and forward. Issei meant the other direction, his mind barely able to whisper, “On yourself, stupid.” 

Hold lost, Takahiro leans down to Issei’s ears. What starts as a whispering of the sweetest sounding plea ever, ends in Takahiro’s mouth fallen open with a silent cry “Fuck me, please-” ‘Sei.” 

All of a sudden, he wants this to last longer than planned. The resolve settles and his body feverish from the lust and the love, Issei flips them over, placing both of Takahiro’s feet above his shoulders. The feralness of before pales at the hypersensitivity he feels rushing over him, driving him harder and faster into Takahiro’s warmth, whose continued silent, mute, and barely heard words drive him to the edge at last. The final thing he needs pours over Takahiro’s lips. 

“Issei, I love you, so much, aah!” Takahiro whispers, while Issei brings his face close to his lover’s, tongue brushing Takahiro’s lips. He cannot endure how beautiful he is in this moment, the light eyelashes trembling as the lids press close together. 

“Love you too. Fuck, Taka-” It’s all too much to hold back any longer, Issei’s body tensing, his hips still thrusting while he comes, shoulders up and head down, groaning past grinding teeth. Making sure he feels the same liquid spilling from Takahiro, Issei lets his head thump on the floor besides Takahiro’s face, torso hovering over his boyfriend, taking deep breaths and removing his cock. Blunt nails caress his side, making him tremble more besides the after-shocks of his orgasm.

Lazy, Issei falls to his side, flipping on his back on his own accord this time. Arm spread to invite Takahiro, who follows to lie at Issei’s side, head bumping on the warm chest. They caress each other in a sort of aftercare, which doesn’t last long, as the silence gives way to body shaking laughs. Takahiro shaking his head, as much as he can with one side of his face planted on top of Issei, who tries to speak.

“I can’t believe you said it at such a moment.”

“Couldn’t help it. I wanted to use it casual during lunch but… then you said my tattoo design looked stupid.” Takahiro laughs still, while Issei kisses his chin. “And anyway, you replied too.” 

“What else did you expect, a ‘thank you’?” Issei has to push his mouth on top of Takahiro’s head, in fear of breaking out in a louder laugh, while he feels a hand slipping between his chest and Takahiro’s mouth, to do the same thing for the latter. He distracts them both by two things. Reaching for a tissue box, Issei cleans them both, then asks where Takahiro’s parents think he is. 

“My older brother is covering it for me, they think I’m studying for the entrance exam.” 

“And will you at your brothers all night?” His voice betrays him by sounding too hopeful at the end. 

“Yeah, he’ll even make me breakfast.” 

“Good, cause I won’t.” Issei jokes, while he tries to touch Takahiro’s ass with the arm trapped below his boyfriend. Takahiro evades those hands by straddling him again. Content looks pass between them before they lie down for a soft, long kiss. Busying his hands the way he knows Takahiro likes, Issei soothes a hand from the middle of Takahiro’s spine, towards the shoulders and all the way back down once more. He repeats it until Takahiro’s full torso lies snug on top of him, before he touches the lovely ass with both hands.

“You’ve got a weird fascination with my rear today, Issei.” Takahiro swats them away as best as he can, standing up and letting Issei admire him for as long as it takes him to get to the bed. Following, Issei tackles him, making them both lie down the same way they did before. He covers them both with the blanket, settling for a few hours of sleep, his good night a flat, wondering sentence. 

“I’ve always had a weird fascination with that part, though.” 

*~*~*

They had come to a not so busy coffee place in the city, early enough to share a coffee in each other’s presence. Seijou would demand full attention, even on a day off the club. While Issei likes them enough to share a Sunday in their presence, watching Takahiro’s fingers dip into the whipped cream had a whole other level. Not minding Issei as he did so, Takahiro’s fingertip disappears in the fluffy white cream, which he licks off his fingers. There’s not much a man can do when watching such a display, except widening his knees to accommodate the twitching in his trousers. He leans back into the high, couch-like back of the row-long bench. To keep his mind off the things Takahiro does with food, not noticing what it does to other people, including his boyfriend, Issei takes a sip of his own coffee, topped with the same whipped cream. He licks one side of his lip, making a mental note to include this kind of stuff when they’re alone. 

Takahiro’s brow twitches, holding in a laugh while he leans forward to brush at Issei’s lip. “You’ve got something-” 

Issei holds still, while Takahiro wipes him clean. The wish to lick it off his thumb evaporates when Takahiro, the selfish bastard, brings the residual cream to his own lips. Frozen, Issei watches the tongue dart out, and envy fills his heart. If they would have chosen a more obscure location, Takahiro could have kissed it of his lips directly. Instead, they had opted to be visible for the team, sitting near the window looking out on the street. There are too exposed here to do anything.

“You’re thinking dirty thoughts again, Matsukawa?” It’s more of a statement than a question, and a true one to boot. Issei avoids the eyes observing him, while his hand folds around the cup. 

“Hard not to.” Issei looks up, about to indulge Takahiro, who has read his mind before he can speak. 

“If you’re thinking of including whipped cream, or any sort of food, into our sexual play, I’m asking you right now not to.” Takahiro takes his own cup, salvaging the taste of fresh coffee, no cream left to seduce Issei with. The latter smiles, brow lifting as to why Takahiro wouldn’t want kinky food play.

“Easy, it is too overwhelming. I wouldn’t be able to help myself, or might freeze because it’s too much to deal with.” Putting his cup back on the table, the clinking adding to the atmosphere in the café. Takahiro’s voice levels, soft enough not to not let anyone else hear what they’re discussing. Even so, he waits until other tables occupants talk a little louder, more engaged with themselves to hear whatever the two boys are considering. “Whipped cream, for one, or syrup. Any kind of berry fruits, anything at all that would have juices.” 

Takahiro’s shoulders shiver ever so slight, Issei noting the small shake with his watchful eyes. The thought of it arouses them both, it seems. 

“I think you could handle it.” Issei snorts to himself, watching Takahiro shake his head with a small smile too. Issei would never do anything Takahiro wouldn’t like 100%, or had any doubts on doing. They had steered away from blindfolds, for one, although Issei wasn’t fond of that idea either. However, if Issei had half a reason to do something, expecting Takahiro to catapult into ecstasy… He’d definitely consider it. 

“I wouldn’t. First of all, you would be naked, and then food all over you? I’d die.” Takahiro’s voice keeps being monotone, a strong indicator he’s trying to hide how much he’d love it. He had given Issei a good list of things to include on the next grocery shopping list for their less than innocent activities. 

“Maybe I’d be the one to spread stuff like whipped cream on you, then lick it off-” Issei leans forward, staring at Takahiro who avoids him. leaning back without as much as a blush. “Or wait, would that be worse?”

Takahiro doesn’t answer him, eyes drifting to the window. Issei sees one hand around the coffee cup, the other vanishes beneath the table. Grinning, he fights the urge to look below, imagining Takahiro’s hand turns to a fist. The palm would be sweaty, the prospect of Issei’s suggestion making Takahiro shield himself off from him, in order to remain decent in a public place. The other hand cannot avoid showing nervousness, lifting from the cup so Takahiro’s chin can fit into the palm of his hand, fingers spreading across the face to hide. Vowing to himself to inquire at another time, Issei drops the teasing, leaning back and watching people walk by the store. 

Inhaling the scent of coffee and Takahiro’s signature scent mingling through, making Issei’s eyes dart back to his observing boyfriend. The light it just right in this establishment, fixing Takahiro’s hair and eyelashes with a highlight. Eyelashes which are almost invisible in the dark, or when you’re too far away. Issei’s foot nudges Takahiro’s. He gives him half a look from the corner of his eyes, seeing Takahiro doing the same.

“You know that I love you, right? A lot.”

Takahiro smiles over his hand, lashes fluttering close for a bit before looking back at Issei. 

“Of course I do, idiot.” The background noise of coffee cups clinking and the loud noise of espresso machines fade, the same way they do not register the bells when new customers enter. The new crowd is energetic, present, even talks to them.

Issei only sees Takahiro’s smile spread across the face half hidden behind the hand, eyelashes low but not closed. He sees relaxing shoulders, and arm spread across the table, a single finger tapping the wood. Forgetting where they are, Issei’s mind urges him on to touch the finger, the whole hand in fact, only for a moment. His shoulders push off the comfy back, hands and elbows on the table, stopping in time when he notes another’s presence reaching their table. 

Looking away from Takahiro, he nods his greeting to Kindaichi, who greets them both in turn before he sits with his iced coffee. The rest of the team, such as Yahaba and Iwaizumi, wait in line to order, while Kunimi and Watari wait at the other end where the barista hands out the already paid beverages. Oikawa is the last to come in, closing the door, making the team’s regulars complete with the exception of Kyoutani. 

Beneath the table, Takahiro kicks Issei’s foot, not watching him, still having that same, intimate smile on his face. 

“Kindaichi, keep that whipped cream away from Matsukawa.” Takahiro warns him in a serious voice, making Kindaichi guard his ice coffee with both arms, although he sits across another table. 

“H-huh, why?”

“Shut up Hanamaki.” Issei hisses, trying to kick Takahiro back, who has his legs safely folded below his chair, and out of reach. 

“I’m telling you, it’s dangerous.” Takahiro acts as if Issei isn’t sitting in front of him, warning Kindaichi whose guard rises up as he looks at Issei, who has to hold back the laughter in his throat. 

Lucky for him, Watari and Kindaichi, before they came into the shop, had a discussion concerning fitness and weight lifting, which they continue over coffee. Issei listens in on Watari’s in depth research to build up muscle using different kinds of equipment found at the gym. The worries of their first year move into the direction of fitting it into the time schedule. Watari conquers that he has spend more time on studying than Kindaichi, whose workload in class 2 is lower than Watari’s college preparation. 

“You two shouldn’t concern yourselves with those matters, you know? It’s not advisable to become a musclehead like Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s interruption receives everyone’s attention, and his eyes are wide as if doing fitness could be such a bad thing. Before Iwaizumi could as much as get ready for an attack, calling Oikawa a name through a grunt, Takahiro’s body leans forward to be able to look past Kindaichi.

“Why would they listen to someone who has no idea of what he’s talking about, hm? Its not we’ve seen you frequent a fitness room in ages.” Shutting Oikawa up, Takahiro leans back into his seat, nodding to Kindaichi. “If you like to try: Matsukawa and I visit a center near his place. First timers can come in for free if they’re invited by members.” 

Watari and Kindaichi show interest of going, and Iwaizumi closes in too. Engrossed, he begins about how simple dumbbells don’t do it for him anymore. Pumped, they all feel like going, except Kunimi whose parents make him to go to an ‘eikawa’ school, to improve his English, and for which he has to read ‘ Animal farm’ after the meeting. Excluding Oikawa, they become a group of seven people; Yahaba had texted Kyoutani, who was absent here due to his extra homework. Pouting, their captain says that if everyone goes, he’s willing to give the muscle-head center a go as well. His pompous ways ignored while the rest discusses a date.

*~*~* 

Most of the club flees the scene, ignore it by looking elsewhere, or look onto it with weird sense of envy. Neither Issei or Takahiro belong to either of the categories, watching Oikawa hold his new girlfriend’s hands. 

Practice hasn’t started yet, as it took some, mainly the first and second years present at the gym yesterday, to do their warming up. Their advisor Irihata hadn’t minded the delay, as it proves excellent mental quality to further one's fitness, he’d said. He and Iwaizumi had taken it on themselves to make sure no one would get injured during practice. Although coach Mizoguchi had ordered them not to dilly-dally, Oikawa’s luck had it that the coach had been called away to supervise. By absence of authority, he took his time saying good bye to the girl the team had dubbed ‘new sweetheart’. 

“Seems like he found a new victim.” Issei sits on the floor, shoes next to him, putting his knee braces around the calves. Tying his shoes, he glances at Takahiro’s, who stands next to him. The lines between the sole and toe box become loose, the material displaying holes. Making a mental note to take Takahiro out on Sunday to go shoe shopping, Issei glances back to the pair. Oikawa has to bow down a little so his new girlfriend can kiss him. 

“Yeah. Gross.” Takahiro replies, both of them watching the kiss develope into something deeper. While those sounds fill the gym, both Issei and Takahiro make disgusted noises, Issei standing up and putting his shirt below the band of his training shorts.

Takahiro walks behind him, fingers lightly touching Issei’s, his lips gracing the ear as he stretches a bit to reach. “My family is out for the weekend, and I told them I’d watch the house, the dog, and study. Come over Saturday evening? They’re gonna leave money for pizza.”

Issei doesn’t look back, watching the girl leave, as she blows kisses. He curls two fingers around Takahiro’s, trying to calm down the warmth in his face and ears.

“Sure, I’ll be there. You need new shoes, too.” Issei feels Takahiro’s hands on his back, swiping past as he walks to the other side. 

“Ahw, you watch out for me. That’s so sweet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh what can I say, I really love them.
> 
> Also! I knew that I wanted to end this as cute as I did, but I enhanced the ending with the inspiring contents of Isy's tweet https://twitter.com/_memorde/status/595543664815800320


End file.
